Midnight Show by Mira Day

“Oh be still my beating heart!! Ms Day you did a number on it and I thank you for that.” – Cranky – The Book Curmudgeon

“This is a must read for lovers of dark stories, and I am in awe of this talented author’s work. Brilliant work Mira!!” – Wendy’s Book Blog

“This book was killer. Quick but killer. It dealt with some dark topics. Heck I didn’t see half the twists that this story threw at me till it was too late. Please have some tissues when reading this story. Big high five to Mira Day” – Brandi on Goodreads

My Jenny.

Best friends since we were five years old. She was there for me when I lost my mom. There for me when my dad used me as a punching bag. She was my rock and I needed her more than she ever knew.

It’s been so long since I’ve seen her. So long since I’ve held her hand and felt her heartbeat nearly in sync with my own. She came back for me; my rock, to help me bury the man who shaped who I’ve become.

But she didn’t come alone.

I was used to losing parents, but losing Jenny? To him? No. She’s MY Jenny.

Michael pours me another glass of bourbon. Its burn is nothing compared to the tortured world inside my mind.

“We’ll make sure she never leaves us…ever again.”

I nod my head as the room goes dark.

I can keep a secret.

“So, how did your date go the other night?” She takes a swig of beer and turns to look me in the eyes. Her baby blues are bright against the dark bar background, the neon lights enhancing everything.

I shrug. “Meh. She was a bit boring.”

“Jesus, I swear. If it’s not one thing it’s another.” Jenny kicks my bar stool, laughing. I love it when she laughs. Her whole chest heaves and it’s hard not to pay attention to that. “So what made her so boring?”

Is that a glimmer of disappointment I see? Damn it, why does she have to know me well enough to know that?

I give her a sly smile and she punches me in the arm. “You dog! Sounds like she kept your interest peaked just long enough.”

“Well, with tits the size of melons,” I hold my hands out, “it’s hard not to be a little interested.” I instantly hate myself for saying that to her.

Way to go, Genius. Right before you confess your undying love to a girl, tell her about the sex you just had the other night. Smooth.

Luckily, my Jenny knows me. She gives me a scoff before taking another drink. I focus on her lips wrapped around the bottle. The way her throat moves as the liquid makes its way down. My dick twitches, and I shift in my seat to ease the sudden confines of my pants. Jesus, what she does to me.

“Jenny, I need-”

I hear her phone ring, and she holds her hand up. “Hold that thought, B. Hello?” She starts to slide off the stool. “Hey sweetie! Let me go outside.” She beams at me as she leaves.

I place my head in my hands, gripping my hair. Someone sets a shot in front of me, and Andy’s gravelly voice breaks into my thoughts. “You alright?”

“Fuck.” I slam the shot down and motion for another. “No dude. I’m not.”

Andy sets the next shot down and leans against the bar. “You need to man up. Quit being a bitch.” He raises his eyebrow as he pushes off, smirking.

“Pfft.”

Smug asshole.

“Sorry!” Jenny gives me her breathy apology as she climbs back on her stool beside me. Her hand touches my back to brace herself, and leg brushing against mine. Her touch sets my body on fire, as my eyes drawn to the hint of cleavage she’s showing.

“That was Ronnie. He’s stopping by.”

I stare into the second shot glass. “Fuck Ronnie.”

I want to immediately regret my words. I want to take them back and do this differently. But I don’t. I don’t regret saying what I said. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch her reaction.

“What the hell, Brandon?” She narrows her eyes. “I thought you liked Ronnie.”

What is wrong with me?

“I can’t do this anymore, Jenny.” I don’t even recognize my voice. It’s deeper, with a touch of anger that I wish I could hide. I pour the second shot of bourbon down my throat, enjoying the burn.

“Do what?”

I inhale deeply. It’s now or never. “Jenny. I love you.”

Her brows furrow together. “I love you too, Brandon.”

“No.” I drink from my beer, my hands starting to shake. I set the bottle down. “Like, I’m in love with you.”

Mira Day is a Contemporary Romance/Fiction writer, born in the Carolinas with a passion for food. She loves the outdoors, NFL football and exclamation points! You’ll usually find her slinging coffee at Starbucks, writing, making jewelry or catching up with Friends on Netflix.